


Wherever You Go Today

by tralala



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arlathan, Bondage, Crapsack AU, Dark Solas, Dom Solas, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Hurt/Comfort, NSFW, Orgasm Denial, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Slow Burn, Solas Smut, Solas Spoilers, Sovelyan, rape mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4737617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tralala/pseuds/tralala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Fen'Harel tried and failed to end the rule of his fellow Creators, Evelyn Trevelyan faces a future far more humble than that of Andraste's Herald.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a fill for the following Dragon Age Kink Meme request: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/14614.html?thread=57709334#t57709334
> 
>  
> 
> _"So this AU idea popped into my head and I cannot stop thinking about it._
> 
>  
> 
> _f!Trevelyan is given as a virgin sacrifice to the god Fen’Harel. But rather than devour her, the Dread Wolf has other plans in mind._
> 
>  
> 
> _\+ Sassy Trevelyan does not take well to being given up as a sacrifice._  
>  _++ Fen’Harel approves thoroughly of her rebellion and ends up respecting her._  
>  _+++ Sex on the altar dedicated to the Dread Wolf."_
> 
> Big thanks to my beta reader, [BloodyMassive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyMassive/pseuds/BloodyMassive), for making this possible.

It was just after sunrise when a massive edifice of stone and crystal came into view. There was so much magic emanating from it, that even from a distance she could feel it. That her captors put her to sleep for most of the journey there was a blessing in disguise, she thought. It wasn't truly sleep though; simply idle thoughts drifting into nothingness. They had used magic to paralyze her limbs and numb her senses. Now that she was awake and aware of her surroundings, the destination she suspected was no longer in doubt: the Temple of the Betrayer.

In spite of a noble’s standard education on political neighbors, her captors were the first elves she had ever met; the first elves she even saw outside of picture books. Growing up she imagined them as beautiful, benevolent souls, for how could anything else live in the sparkling city of gold that floated above Thedas? Both her mother and her older sister told her the elves were wicked, but she knew _them_ to be wicked and only took their opinions as further proof that she was right.

They stopped at a grand pavilion made of marble. In the center was a raised, rectangular, gold-trimmed slab that served as an altar. As her elven captors roughly tugged her clothing from her body, and secured her wrists and ankles to the top of it with coarse rope, she knew she'd been a fool. Believing the truth about elves wouldn't have prevented her predicament though. It was a fate she was destined for since the day she was born.

She was a mage. If she were born to a family of peasants, she'd have been sent to a Circle of Magi to be beaten, raped, and forced to perform magical services for nobility so that the Chantry might profit. But she _was_ nobility, and no noble house would suffer the humiliation of one of their own being reduced to such a state. She was abducted by her family's political enemies in Tevinter, people would say, but the truth was something far more cruel. Her family sold her to her elven captors through a Tevinter slave broker who was illegally based on the outskirts of the Arbor Wilds. Never did she assume this day would arrive, but since becoming aware of her magic at an early age, she knew the possibility was there. It would have come sooner if not for the spirit who helped keep her magic hidden. Chasing it away was a mistake, and a small part of her wondered if this was what she deserved for having done so.

The two elves would not make eye contact with her, much less tell her their names, and so she took to calling them Skinny and Whiny, because they were. Skinny blew a horn fastened to a pole a few feet away from the altar. Whiny didn't whine about the sound hurting his ears, but _she_ might have if anyone cared. It was nearly as painful as the lingering burn from the blood writing they carved into her face before they took her through the eluvian. Skinny and Whiny knelt before the altar, lowered their heads, and waited.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the weather became warmer. There was no breeze to cool her skin, but at least the roof of the pavilion provided shade. While the trees that surrounded it were similar to those on her family’s estate, the ferns were three times larger, and the flowers bloomed in shapes and colors that made them completely foreign to her. She turned her head sideways to look at the temple. It was one of her fondest dreams to see the dwellings of Arlathan. The inhabitant of this one was going to kill her, she knew. She would have cried if her situation wasn't too surreal to fully accept.

* * *

Over a hundred years had passed since Fen'Harel last heard the horn at his altar. The last visitor to blow it was Falon’Din, who had done so to mock him. The last time it was blown to signal an offering was nearly twice as long ago, he thought. He remembered the young man; the way he cowered when Fen'Harel approached, the way his muscles relaxed when Fen'Harel gave him the task with which he might earn his life back, and the way he wept when Fen'Harel revealed the manner of his deception.

The memory did not please Fen'Harel; it merely made him curious about what kind of offering awaited him now. Or perhaps it was another one of his peers who had come to gloat, and there would be no offering at all. He arrived at his altar in the form of a massive black wolf with six luminous crimson eyes. It was not a thing meant to impress or invoke fear; most of his time was spent in that state. Only when he saw the bound nude woman's startled expression did he think to take the visage of the elvhen. A few steps closer, and he could see that she was a shemlen with a head of long, dark brown curls; the first shemlen to ever serve as an offering to him. He could also see the blood writing freshly etched into her face.

Fen'Harel did not give the kneeling men permission to stand. He did not even give them permission to raise their heads. "Why does this offering bare Mythal's vallaslin?" he asked.

"Any shemlen who enters Arlathan must be marked as a slave, my Lord," the thinner of the two replied with a slight quiver in his voice.

"When was it made so?" Fen'Harel asked.

"Perhaps a hundred years ago or so," said the thin one.

"Closer to two-hundred," said the other.

A long, uncomfortable silence followed before a shimmer of magic surrounded Fen'Harel's hands. They hovered above the face of the offering. In a matter of seconds her vallaslin was gone. "What is your name, shemlen?" he asked in the language her people called the _common tongue_.

"I am Evelyn," she replied.

* * *

Imagining a god in her mind, even a false one, conjured a picture of elaborate dress, an entourage of some sort, and perhaps a golden halo of light. Fen'Harel did not live up to the fantasy with his bald head, and his dingy, weathered garb. If he were about to kill her, he could have at least put on clean clothes for the occasion. It made her feel like she'd been cheated, and she wrinkled her nose at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

While Evelyn could easily read anything written in modern elven, she had a difficult time understanding it when spoken, and it was nearly impossible to follow when it was spoken quickly. The bulk of the conversation between Skinny, Whiny, and Fen'Harel was a mystery. Her surname, Trevelyan, was mentioned a few times, but none of the three so much as glanced at her when they did so.

Suddenly the conversation stopped. Fen'Harel covered her forehead with the palm of his hand. A pleasant wave of magic flowed down the center of her body, causing her to gasp loudly and tug at her ropes until it reached her toes. Evelyn expected at least one of the men to laugh or smirk, but the only reaction that she seemed to elicit was a silent nod from Fen'Harel, which was directed at Skinny and Whiny. And at _that_ they looked relieved.

The entire ordeal was irritating. If she were going to be killed or brutalized further, she wished they would just get on with it. Instead, Fen'Harel returned to his animal form and ran towards the temple, her captors remained on their knees, and she remained bound. She didn't know how long he was gone on account of dozing off.

It was Fen'Harel's voice that woke her. He was an elf again, and Skinny and Whiny were standing. She had to lift her head to clearly see them. Fen'Harel was giving them a large scroll, and two vials infused with magic so potent even she could sense it. They appeared neither pleased nor disappointed when they left.

Fen'Harel returned to the altar, standing beside her head. It was then she noticed the beige bundle of fabric tucked under one of his arms. He dropped it on her chest, then snapped each rope with his bare hands until she was free.

"Put the robe on," he said, gesturing to the bundle.

Evelyn grasped it with one hand, sat up, then swung her legs over the side of the altar so that she was facing him. "Why?" she asked.

"When I was last familiar with shemlen culture, your people had a great many taboos pertaining to nudity. I assumed you would want to cover yourself," he said. "Regardless, you will want to be covered while undergoing your trial."

She let out an ugly little snort. "Who are you to put _me_ on trial? I'm not the one who committed a crime," she said.

For a moment, Fen'Harel looked confused, then sighed. "I apologize. It is easy to forget which words in your language have more than one meaning," he said. "You have not broken any laws, so far as I am aware. The trial I speak of is to determine whether or not you will be spared the traditional fate of an offering."

"What fate is that?"

"Death upon this altar," he replied.

With that, she slid off the side of it and put the robe on. The fabric was rough and flimsy. She neither complained nor made an effort to hide her repulsion.

"You are tall," he said, sounding mildly surprised.

While Evelyn was indeed tall for a human woman, most human men were taller still. Fen'Harel, however, was precisely the same height as her. As she tied the belt of the robe around her waist, she gave him the smuggest little grin she could muster and said, "In the eyes of one such as you, indeed I _should_ be."

If the insult bothered him, he did nothing to show it. "Plunged into the ground somewhere in the wilderness surrounding my temple is a dagger with an everite hilt. I ask that you find it, and return it to me here at the altar. Your trial begins now. You will have until sunset to complete it," he said.

"In what manner will you kill me,” she asked, “if I can't find it?"

"Perhaps I will eat you."

"What will happen if I pass my trial?"

His lips curved into a menacing grin. "Perhaps I will also eat you."

"Perhaps I'll return with the dagger, and use it to chop off your testicles," she said.

The smile on his face relaxed into something more content, as if he were pleased by her threat. "Attempting to do so is indeed an option," he said. "Have you any further questions?"

"How many questions may I ask?"

"As many as you like. However, the amount of time you have to complete your trial will not be extended, so I advise you to choose your questions carefully," Fen'Harel replied.

"Can I trust a single word that comes out of your mouth, Betrayer?" she asked, hoping to see a spark of pain in his eyes at her use of that name. She frowned when there wasn't.

"You have my word,” he said, “that I will say nothing that is not true.”

"Your word?" Evelyn exclaimed, clutching her chest dramatically. "I feel completely at ease now." She leaned back against the altar, stretched out an arm, and tapped the surface with her fingers as she gazed upward, pretending to be deep in thought.

Finally, she asked, "On what side of the temple is the dagger located?"

"You should go left," Fen’Harel replied.

"Will I _find_ the dagger on the left side of the temple?"

A smile stretched wide across his face. "If I already knew the outcome of your trial, there would be no need for one."

"How many _fake_ daggers have you hidden around the temple?"

"I have hidden only one dagger for you to find. Any weapon you bring to me will be acceptable, however."

"So if I found a knife or sword instead, I would pass my trial?" she asked.

"That would depend, in part, on whether or not you returned it to me here at the altar," he replied.

Evelyn's shoulders drooped as she let out an exasperated sigh. None of his answers were really _answers_. There was only one left that was worth wasting time on. "Are there any animals in the wilderness surrounding the temple that might harm me?" she asked.

Fen’Harel shook his head. "No animals on the temple grounds will injure you during your trial unless you make a deliberate attempt to injure them first.”

“I see,” she replied, then stood up straight and nodded. "I'll be on my way then."

As she walked past him, he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and gave her a solemn look. "For whatever it is worth, I hope you pass your trial," he said.

With a disgusted scowl on her face, Evelyn used one hand to grab his wrist, and the other to shove him backwards. That he barely lost his balance only angered her further. Her hand trembled as she released him.

"What you hope for is irrelevant, Fen'Harel. I will leave this place, and you will never see me again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this story is just getting started, feedback is immensely appreciated. I hope you've all enjoyed it so far.
> 
> News about the progress of future chapters will be posted to my blog regularly: http://kinkmemelurker.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

The so-called trial was pointless, Evelyn was certain. The only purpose she could imagine it serving was as entertainment for Fen'Harel. Either she was setting out to find something that didn't exist or, as he himself stated, her fate would be the same no matter what she did. If he was watching her, what else could she do? The Creators were false gods, but they were powerful enough to trick their own people into believing otherwise. She couldn't afford to be reckless.

Even in its unkempt state, the temple grounds were beautiful. There were long, shiny black insects with hundreds of legs that made Evelyn cringe whenever she caught sight of them, but also tiny butterflies with translucent pastel wings. Some trees were so tall that even with her head craned back she couldn't see the top of them. No matter which way she looked, there were large, bright flowers and thin, delicate vines. It smelled of spring with hints of other things completely foreign to her. Under different circumstances, she would have been thrilled to be here.

Since Fen'Harel encouraged her to go left, she chose to go right, holding to a pattern to prevent accidental backtracking. Initially her plan was to walk a path a few feet away from the temple itself, then span out another few feet when the loop was complete. When she got closer to the side of the temple that would have been her left at the beginning of this dismal little jaunt, she wondered if sending her in the wrong direction was the _only_ reason he wanted her to go that way. Maybe there was a trap waiting for her. She cursed herself for not thinking to ask him about such a possibility.

Given that Evelyn was barefoot, and the dagger was _plunged into the ground_ , she thought it best to tread carefully. The grass was so high that after roughly an hour of searching, she wondered if she already walked past it. Then she wondered if a thick, heavy tree branch would count as a weapon if she beat Fen'Harel over the head with it.

There was no sundial with which to tell time, but based on the position of the sun itself and rising temperature, Evelyn guessed it was early afternoon when her feet started to hurt. Her stomach wasn't feeling much better. The elves who brought her to the temple had woken her during the journey, in the dead of night, to give her food and drink, and allow her to relieve herself. It had perhaps been twelve hours since she consumed anything. And when had they fed her before that? She couldn't recall.

So far, she'd seen no running water during her search for the dagger and while there were plenty of berry bushes about, she had no idea which bore edible fruit and which bore poison. At that moment it was not a huge problem, but it would become one as the day stretched on. She wasn't yet ready to despair though. Fen'Harel had to nourish himself somehow. Surely there was a reliable source of food and water somewhere close by.

Evelyn found a large rock to sit on, the top of which was blessedly free of dirt or moss. While it seemed a poor idea to take a break when her life was hanging in the balance, a half hour less time to search wasn't likely to make much difference. Maybe if her feet had a rest she'd walk a little faster when she began again.

Several feet away, there was an oddly positioned statue of a person; presumably an elf. As much as Evelyn wanted to rest, curiosity got the better of her. She abandoned her rock, and walked over to it to get a better look.

There was a great deal of magic emanating from it, which Evelyn proudly recalled was to be expected from any work of art in Elvhenan. The elves had spells to preserve art, so that it never deteriorated. It was one of her fondest wishes to lay eyes on such a thing, and she was glad for the opportunity, even in such dire circumstances.

The statue was of an elven man with one foot in front of the other, but bent over as if he had been running and tripped. It would have been a comical sight if not for the front end of the statue: the palm of one hand touched the ground, the other hand was defensively stretched upward, and the look on its face was pure anguish. She knelt before it so she could see the details of its expression up close.

Save for the texture and pale gray hue, the statue was clearly an exact replica of whoever it was modelled after, down to each individual eyelash. There did appear to be one point of imperfection, at least when she first noticed it: slight, round impressions around the chin. She brought her face closer, and then ran her fingers over them. Suddenly she realized they were deliberate indentations meant to be caused by someone gripping the man’s face, and tilting his head up. It was a subtle, uncanny thing, but it made the statue so much more interesting.

Evelyn couldn’t resist the urge to stand up, place her fingers in the dents, and stare down at it in a mock-menacing manner. She wondered if a complimentary statue was ever made; one that would stand before this one just as she did. Where would it be now?

The shadows cast by the trees grew a little darker. It was time to return to the search. The novelty of venturing through the Arlathan wilderness gradually faded, leaving only a sense of tedium. As unaccustomed to walking far distances as she was, it didn’t take long for the ache in her feet to extend to her legs.

Daylight was fading. The sun would set in about two or three hours, Evelyn thought. Still she hadn't found the dagger. It seemed to her the wisest course of action was fleeing for her life. If Fen'Harel was waiting for her by the altar, it stood to reason she could vacate the temple grounds uninterrupted if she veered far enough away from the pavilion. Something in her gut told her it couldn't be that easy, but it was better than accepting death.

By this point, both her feet and her legs were in agony, her throat was painfully dry, and the cramps in her stomach were becoming sharper. That, combined with hunger and dehydration, made it difficult for her to even stand, let alone walk. She sat down in a soft, thick patch of grass, unconcerned about staining the robe she wore. More so, she worried about her fatigue inhibiting her search for the dagger, assuming there was any chance left to succeed.

A wolf abruptly emerged from a tall cluster of ferns. Evelyn let out a frightened gasp. For a moment, the creature stood still and calm, then approached her, one cautious step at a time. It had an ordinary pair of brown eyes, was the size of a normal wolf, and covered in white fur. Clearly, this was not Fen'Harel.

There was no chance she could stand up and run faster than a wolf could leap on top of her. As it got closer she scooted back on the ground and defensively thrust her hands forward. The wolf, in turn, lowered the front half of its body and let out a pitiful whine. When she brought her arms back down to her sides, it closed the distance and sat beside her.

"Are you a friendly wolf then?" she asked, then hesitantly brought her hand to its snout to let it sniff her. When it didn't snap at her, she scratched behind its ear. Its tail thumped against the ground, stirring up a small puff of dirt. She knew though, just because the creature wasn't attacking her didn't mean she could trust it. Perhaps Fen’Harel sent it to spy on her. Could magic be used to command animals in such a way?

The wolf lowered its head, gently took the edge of one of her sleeves into its mouth, and tugged upward as if it were urging her to stand. She did so. Then it took a few steps away from her, and looked over its shoulder expectantly.

Evelyn sighed. "You want me to follow you, I take it."

The wolf turned around, and tugged at her sleeve with its teeth again.

"Very well. You better not be leading me to my death though. This day has been awful enough as it is," she said.

This trek distanced Evelyn a fair bit from the temple. Between the overgrown flora and her own fatigue, each step she took demanded more effort than the last. The white wolf routinely stopped and checked to make sure she wasn’t falling too far behind.

Just when she thought she was on the verge of passing out, they came upon a clearing. In the center was a simple stone fountain with clean water spurting out from the top, cascading down into a small pool. Among the surrounding trees were a few that grew mangoes; a fruit she knew was safe to eat on account of her father having them imported from Seheron once a year when they were in season.

Without a moment's hesitation, Evelyn ran to the fountain, rinsed the day's filth from her hands, then repeatedly cupped them to bring water to her mouth. When her thirst was finally quenched, she plucked three mangoes from one of the trees and sat down at the edge of the pool. 

On opposite sides of the fountain were oversized statues of elven men. Neither corresponded with the one she encountered hours ago. Instead, they vaguely reminded her of the two elves who brought her to the temple, with their upturned noses and smug grins. Evelyn gave them a rueful glare as she devoured her mangoes.

The magic emanating from the two haughty statues was not as strong as the previous one, nor were they as detailed. It made sense though: less magic protecting them from the elements would have allowed for greater deterioration over time. It was a testament to Fen'Harel's poor character that he favored the frightened-looking one over these, even if she also favored it in her own way.

The wolf sat at Evelyn’s side, calmly at first. Then it began looking around anxiously. Fen’Harel said no creature near the temple would harm _her_ , but that wouldn’t stop some other creature from hurting this one. She rinsed one of her sticky hands in the pool, wiped it dry on her robe, then scratched behind one of the wolf’s ears, hoping that would comfort it. The wolf started happily thumping its tail on the ground, which caused a frog to jump out of a tall patch of grass behind it. This caused the wolf to dash to her other side and slightly tuck its tail between its legs.

“Don’t worry, Fuzzy. I’ll protect you from the fiendish green demon of doom,” she said, giving the wolf’s ear another scratch. It happily preened for a short while, then laid down and licked at one of its paws.

Once Evelyn was done rinsing her hands in the pool, the wolf gave the hem of her robe a tug with its teeth. Perhaps it was because of the horrible treatment she’d received since her family sold her, but she found the wolf’s presence comforting. Deep inside, she knew that wasn’t a good thing. There was a _reason_ Fen’Harel was dubbed the “trickster god” by so many: he was skilled in deception, and beguiling others into carrying out his will. Even if the wolf itself wasn’t trying to act against her, his master could still be manipulating it into doing just that. It was foolish to let her guard down.

“Are you trying to lead me somewhere else now?” she asked.

The wolf enthusiastically wagged its tail. It occurred to her that this was by far the most intelligent animal she ever met; like one of those magical dogs from Tevinter. She wondered if it was magic that made this wolf so smart, or if some animals in Arlathan were just _that_ different from those inhabiting the rest of Thedas.

For a fearsome predator, the wolf was awfully timid as well. Was there something lurking nearby that troubled it, or was this simply the creature’s personality? Either way, it made her uneasy.

Evelyn followed the wolf, now confident that no matter what the wolf’s intentions were, it at least didn’t wish her harm. With her feet hurting so much, it was difficult to keep up, but the fading light in the sky was motivation enough to grit her teeth and endure it. She felt nervous as they turned the corner towards the side of the temple she'd been avoiding. Perhaps she'd been right about the possibility of a trap, and the wolf was leading her straight into it. What did it matter at this point though? With no weapon or other means to defend herself, she knew she stood little chance against Fen'Harel if he gave chase when she tried to escape.

The wolf stopped and turned to look at her. Not more than a couple feet from the foundation of the temple was the dark gleam of everite. Fen'Harel had been truthful about the dagger's whereabouts; too truthful. If she had listened to him, she would have found it in less than half an hour. It was clear to her that either the trial was indeed pointless, or the purpose of it was different than what he would have her believe.

It made no sense for a beast serving Fen’Harel to undermine the trial by leading her to her goal. Perhaps it wouldn’t count if she brought the dagger back to the altar now, because technically the _wolf_ found it. He never said she was forbidden from getting help though. Truly, there was only one thing about her predicament that was certain.

Fen’Harel could not not be trusted.

There was little time to contemplate it further. The sun was setting.

Evelyn knelt before the wolf and hugged its neck. "Has Fen'Harel been cruel to you? Is that it?" she asked as she released it.

The wolf whined again, then rested one of its paws on her knee. With a doleful smile, she placed a hand on top of it.

"Would you like to come with me? We could escape together," she said.

The wolf raised its ears, tilted its head sideways, and licked her cheek. She took it as affirmation; this creature was as sick of Fen’Harel as she was.

When Evelyn rose to her feet, she remained still and quiet for a moment, then frowned. “If your master comes after me- if he attacks,” she said, “I would appreciate your help, but I’ll understand if you can’t. And if you can’t, then you should just run. It’s pointless for _both_ of us to die.”

So together they ran; she with a clenched jaw, trying to ignore the pain in her feet and legs; the wolf with a confidence kept hidden until now. As she had hoped, they veered far around the pavilion, then came upon a stone path. In spite of her uncertain future, her heart soared. Maybe she wouldn’t survive the night beyond the temple where the beasts of the wilderness could attack with impunity, but at least she would be free.

Suddenly, the wolf stopped. There was a crackle of magic in the air surrounding the creature. Its body twisted and turned in an unnatural manner until it became something else altogether.

“The ruse must end here, I am afraid. Venturing past the border of the temple grounds would be inconvenient for me, and dangerous for you,” Fen’Harel said as he stepped toward her.

“You- why? Why would you do this?” she asked, taking a step backwards.

“I might ask the same of you,” he replied in his own calm, collected way. “I asked you to find the dagger you now carry, and to bring it to me at the altar. Yet here you are, running away with it instead. Why?”

“This trial is a farce. I was brought here against my will, and I owe you nothing. I am leaving now,” she said, staring him right in the eye.

“Are you not worried I’ll make good on my word and kill you?”

“I run, or I die. Either way, I’m leaving. You have no say in the matter.”

Evelyn held out her arm sideways so she wouldn’t accidentally stab herself with the dagger, and turned her body so that it was somewhat behind her, hopefully making it more difficult to snatch it away from her. Having never used a weapon before, she didn’t know if she was holding it properly. What she did know was that there was little chance of escape. If somebody like her could kill the Betrayer, he’d already be dead a thousand times over. There was a small scar on his forehead though, and that meant he wasn’t invulnerable. She might at least leave him with a bigger scar, so that when she died she wouldn’t be just another forgotten corpse on his altar. He’d remember her. She’d make sure of it.

“I am capable of mercy,” said Fen’Harel. “I will grant you one last chance to bring the dagger to the altar. Will you take my charity?”

“I’d rather take out your eye.”

_This is it._

Evelyn was trying to throw him off guard. She wouldn't try to carve out his eye, but she charged toward him hoping to slice the corner of his mouth instead. Before she could even begin to understand what was happening, her feet stopped moving, and her knees buckled. The dagger fell to the ground as her hands instinctively reached out to stop her forehead from slamming into the stone.

For the first time since her captors woke her, she was truly terrified. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground; too firmly, for she could not lift either of them. She could see Fen'Harel's own two feet languidly approaching her, one in front of the other. The dagger had landed too far away for her to reach it now. Her throat tightened as she felt the magic that held her feet in place slowly crawling up her legs, making them feel heavy.

"Congratulations, you have passed your trial," said Fen'Harel as he took her chin in his hand, tilting her head until she was peering up at him aghast. "Perhaps you will stay a while."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trickster god, indeed. What do the rest of you think?


	3. Chapter 3

"No, please don't do this!" Evelyn screamed, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"I should think you would be pleased that I am not going to kill you," he said, confused.

"You're turning me into a statue!"

A disturbing grin spread across his face. "Ah, you have met Felassan," he said. "That is not the spell I'm using to keep you in place."

"I don't care! If I passed the trial, then I’ve no further business with you! Undo it!”

Fen'Harel let go of her chin, then crouched down in front of her.

"Here, hold on," he said as he grasped her wrists, and brought her arms around his neck. "I am going to reverse the spell. Your legs will not obey you for a time, but it is temporary. Ready?"

"Yes," she replied through clenched teeth.

The weight of her body grew heavier in his arms as the magic released its hold on her. She kept one arm wrapped tightly around his neck, twisted her body sideways, then pulled her other arm back and gave him a hard slap across the face. The pain, however mild, caused him to flinch and briefly squeeze his eyes shut.

"My apologies," she said with a smug grin. "I wanted to see if my hands were similarly afflicted."

Fen'Harel nodded. "It seems they are not," he replied without malice.

"Is that it?" Evelyn asked with a disappointed frown.

"Is what it?"

"You're not going to shout _'how dare you?'_ , or anything like that?"

"I forced you to spend many hours fearing for your life. It is reasonable for you to lash out at me. I will not hold it against you," he replied as he wrapped an arm under her knees, and picked her up in the fashion that a groom might carry his bride.

At first he could feel every muscle in her body grow taut, but then she seemed to relax against him. Although the way her chin dug into his shoulder was uncomfortable, he allowed it. Somewhere in his mind, he viewed it as a sort of penance for what he put her through, and felt a touch less guilty as a result.

“I was _not_ afraid,” she snapped back at him.

It was clear to him that she was, but there was no need to argue about it. "The temple entrance isn't very far," he said. "If you can refrain from slapping me again until we get there, it should not take long for us to reach it."

Sunset turned the sky a golden hue. The way it reflected off the surrounding foliage was pretty, but something Fen’Harel had seen too many times to give much thought. Evelyn, on the other hand, seemed so captivated by it as to have forgotten her anger, twisting her head this way and that to take in the sight. He wondered if sunsets looked different from her region of Thedas, or if she simply didn’t get out much.

"You said I had to deliver the dagger to the altar to pass the trial. Why was trying to deliver it to your _face_ deemed a success?"

"When did I say that?"

"You said it back at the altar. Are you senile?"

"No," he said. "Think carefully. What did I actually say to you?"

"Are you asking me to repeat your _exact_ words? I don't remember them," Evelyn said.

Fen'Harel sighed. "I _asked_ you to bring the dagger to me at the altar; I never said that was the way to pass your trial. I also told you, in no uncertain terms, that I was willing to kill you on that very altar. Tell me what kind of person would provide a weapon to someone who would kill them."

"A fool, obviously. That's why I didn't," she replied.

Fen'Harel gave her a kind smile. Not everyone who passed the trial did so for the right reasons, but it was clear now that _she_ did. After his altar remained bare for so many years, he considered it a blessing. 

"Indeed," he said, "the trial was never about finding a dagger; it was about what you would do once you held it in your hand. Would you mindlessly obey someone who seemed to wish you harm, or would you use it to fight for your freedom in spite of the odds being stacked against you?"

“What would have really happened if I brought the dagger back to you there?” she asked.

“I would have used it to kill you, on the altar, just as I said I would,” he replied without hesitation.

“Truly?”

“What purpose would it serve for me to lie to you?” he asked.

“Maybe you want me to be afraid of you.”

“No,” he said mildly, “there is no need for you to be afraid now.”

* * *

Fen’Harel’s tone and the matters they spoke of suddenly made Evelyn feel timid. His shoulder felt bony under chin, but she preferred the soreness over lifting her head and having to look him in the eye. They both fell silent.

It was just as well. This was her first time seeing a sunset in Arlathan, which was a far different sight from one on her family’s estate. The latter didn’t have nearly as many trees casting elaborate shadows, and all of its flowers were kept neat and tidy in a walled garden. There was no telling if she’d ever witness a sunset like this again. Talking to him would only spoil it.

The stone path that directly led to the temple entrance was covered in dirt and fallen leaves from surrounding trees. The massive double doors that led into the temple itself had not deteriorated with age. They did not appear to have knobs or handles. Fen’Harel sent a green bolt of magic towards a round indentation in the center to open them. The hinges creaked loudly as they did.

Inside the temple, the air was dry and smelled of incense. Evelyn let out a frustrated grunt, then a startled gasp at how loud it sounded. Wall-mounted candles seemed to light by themselves as they passed each one, but she could make out little more than swooping arches and high ceilings in the lingering darkness. “Can’t you light more of them?” she asked, making a point of speaking in a softer voice.

“I will not trip over anything, if that is your concern,” Fen’Harel replied.

“Yes, I know,” she said, “you can see in the dark, but _I_ can’t and I’ve never been inside an elven temple before.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“If you say _please_ one more time, I will drop you.”

* * *

A tense silence followed. Fen’Harel’s steps slowed as they approached their destination. A muffled noise came from Evelyn.

“Are you crying?” he asked, then sighed. “There will be plenty of sun shining through the windows in the morning. I will take you on a tour of the temple then, if you are so determined.”

“No, I am _not_ crying,” she replied with an air of annoyance. “Why would you even ask me that?”

“You are sniffling.”

“No, I’m _sniffing_ ,” she said, “because you smell like a wet dog.”

“If the smell of me offends you so, perhaps you should stop.”

“I assumed the smell was coming from an actual dog,” she said, then tilted her head back as if to give his face an appraising look. “Close enough, I suppose,” she concluded with a sigh as she put her chin back on his shoulder.

“I suspect you and I could both use a bath right now,” he said, unperturbed.

Evelyn lifted her head. “Does your temple have one of those old communal bathing rooms that elves used to like?” she asked, eyes wide with excitement.

“Used to?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, right. I forgot you’re a shut-in now,” she replied dismissively. “Some of the public bath houses still exist for slaves and the poor, but the elven nobility favors _private_ bathing rooms, at present. There’s usually a different one for every member of the household.”

Fen’Harel sighed. “Wasteful,” he said. “To answer your question though, yes, it is large and meant for several people at once.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said.

“You needn’t wait. It is behind these doors,” he said, stopping before a bronze-colored pair. “How do your legs feel?”

“They’re a little better,” she replied.

Fen’Harel frowned. “They do not feel as though they have fully recovered?”

“No,” she said, her voice thick with disappointment.

“They should be back to normal by now,” he said. “The spell must affect humans differently.”

Fen’Harel could feel her muscles become rigid. “That’s not very reassuring. It won’t be permanent, will it?” she asked.

“If your legs feel better at all, you can safely assume it will not,” he said as another bolt of his magic caused the doors to open, this time silently. “It will make bathing more complicated than I hoped, however.”

A humid warmth touched them both as he carried her through the doorway. Many potted plants and flowers decorated the room. Unlike other parts of the temple, the ceiling in this one was a normal height.

“How so?” she asked, eyes eagerly darting about.

“It was my intention to let you bathe alone first, then me,” he replied, “but if you cannot stand on your own it would not be safe to permit it.”

“My people’s taboos regarding nudity are no longer an issue for me,” she said, “at least not where _you_ are concerned.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

Evelyn sighed. “The taboo only applies to women. If you get naked in front of a man who’s not your husband, the Maker hates you and you deserve to be raped. I’m a mage though, so naked or not, the Maker hates me and I deserve to be raped,” she said, eyes downcast. “None of that’s true, of course, but it’s what most humans believe. Unless you secretly worship the Maker, I can assume you wouldn’t do, well... _that_.”

Fen’Harel felt a slight lump in his throat. “I would never touch someone in that manner without their permission.”

“Well then, I suppose there’s at least _something_ good about you,” she said, then smiled as she turned her attention to the round pool of water in the center of the room. “The fountain in the middle is beautiful. Does it clean you with magic like the books say?” 

Fen'Harel smiled at Evelyn’s unforeseen enthusiasm. “Yes,” he replied. “May I place you on the floor so we can undress?”

“Of course,” she said with a nod.

* * *

Evelyn untied the belt of her robe and shrugged it off her shoulders until it fell onto the smooth stone beneath her. As Fen’Harel stood behind her, she could hear each article of clothing drop, piece by piece. She was genuinely indifferent to the thought of bathing with him until he stepped beside her. This was her first time seeing a man naked, and even in the poor lighting it was a bit of a shock. She did not make any remark; _would_ not make any remark.

As he helped her into the pool she felt ashamed, not of her nudity or of her exposure to his, but of how awkward she felt. In elven culture, her reaction was the mark of an uneducated barbarian. She should have been above that sort of thing.

The pool water was warm without any visible use of fire to heat it. Stone benches surrounded the fountain in the center. When he placed her on one, it felt as if the water was rising; in reality it was the bench sinking down, stopping only when the water reached her chin. The one he sat on did the same. She’d already known to expect the benches to magically adjust themselves, but the sensation still startled her. While she had little interest in learning magic, she would have loved to master the sort of spells used to make this bathroom the wonder that it was.

For a moment they sat together peacefully, side by side, ridding themselves of the sweat and grime clinging to their bodies. As her anxiety quieted, she thought about how oddly shaped some of the lower bits on a man were; or at least the ancient elven sort. For all she knew, it took hundreds of years for his to get that way. Then again, it was a bit dark where she sat when he put her down. Maybe he wasn’t as strange down there as she thought. Now that they were in the pool, the pale blue lanterns that hung above it provided more light. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to perform a better inspection.

Discreetly, of course.

* * *

Evelyn repeatedly glanced toward Fen’Harel, but looked away every time she noticed him glancing back. Given the way she was fidgeting, he assumed she was worried he would force himself on her despite her claims to the contrary. Then he noticed exactly what she was glancing at, and was able to piece it together.

“I am already aware that you have never shared _intimacy_ with anyone,” he said, concealing any hint of amusement from his voice. “It is natural to be curious.”

“No, I am being unforgivably rude!” she shouted while shaking her head, then shut her eyes. “You have my sincerest apology.”

Evelyn’s humiliation over such a small matter filled him with a sense of pity. It was a normal reaction for a human woman, he knew, but he would still correct it if he could. He reached an arm towards her.

“Look at me,” Fen’Harel said, gently taking her chin in his hand. “Look at my face.”

Little by little, she lifted her head until their eyes met.

“You have not offended me,” he told her, “because you have done nothing _to_ offend me. I do not mind if you look.”

With eyes wide and eyebrows raised, she gawked at his face, seeming to be at a loss for words. Then her own face scrunched up into an angry scowl as she smacked his hand away. “Well, I most _certainly_ don’t want to look at yours,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

Fen’Harel cleared his throat. “Understood,” he replied with a slight grin, then shut his eyes and slowly tilted his head back until there was water pouring over his face.

A minute later he heard Evelyn coughing and hacking beside him. He brought his head back up, and took hold of her shoulder to steady her. “Did you slide too far down into the water?” he asked.

“No,” she said, pouting. “I tried to do what you were doing, and got water up my nose.”

“You tilted your head back too far,” he said with a small chuckle. “I am sure that with some practice you will get it down.”

Evelyn laughed as well. “I will beg my mother to have a communal bathing room built down the hall from my bedroom so I can practice every-” She cut herself off, no doubt, once she remembered she was never going home again. The mirth evaporated from her face. “What happens after this?” she then asked, sounding worried.

“I will give you a place to sleep,” he replied.

“No,” she said. “I mean, I already assumed as much. I was asking about- I don’t know. Where will I go now? It’s no problem of yours, of course, but I don’t even know how to find my way back to the eluvian I was dragged through.”

“I will do what I can to assist you in departing my temple safely,” he said. “If you wish to return to your homeland, I will escort you to the appropriate eluvian. If you do not, we can discuss your options. Either way, it is a matter best dealt with after we both have had adequate rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least Evelyn won't be eaten by a hungry predator on her way out of Arlathan. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my two new beta readers, [Milee Cosgrove](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Milee_Cosgrove/), and the other who wishes to remain anonymous. All future chapters will be edited by them unless stated otherwise.

Soft light from a single candle greeted Fen'Harel when he returned to the waking world. The blanket that covered him felt cumbersome. As his eyes began to focus he could make out a pair of blue ones hovering above him. Within seconds, his mind put the pieces together: Evelyn was straddling him, clad in another flimsy acolyte robe that was threatening to slip off one of her shoulders.

"Is the bed I gave you to sleep in not to your liking?" he asked, pulling his bare arms out from under the blanket and stretching them over his head as he did so.

Evelyn leaned down closer to his face, gripping the blanket a little tighter. "I want to see it."

Fen'Harel squinted at her, clueless as to her intent. Then upon recalling her bout of embarrassment in the bath the previous night, he understood what it was she wanted to see.

"That would perhaps be easier if you were not sitting on it," he said with an air of amusement.

"Sitting on what?" she asked, first looking down the length of her own body, then behind her. 

Realization spread across her face as she smacked her forehead and rolled her eyes at him. "Nobody would wake up this early just to see _that_ , Fuzzy. I was talking about the temple," she said with a grin. "You told me you'd give me a tour of it when there was sun shining through the windows."

Fen'Harel smiled at her use of the name she gave him when she thought he was a white wolf. "I do recall agreeing to this," he said as if remembering it took much effort, "but alas, the conditions of the agreement have not been met; it is still dark."

Evelyn crawled to the side of the bed, slid herself off the edge, and ran to the nearest window. "Guess again," she chimed as she grabbed the heavy curtains with both hands and pulled them apart, filling the bedroom with pale sunlight. "Tada!"

The gloom was replaced with hues, warm and rich. Delicate, golden ivy embroidery stretched across the fern green rug. The intruding rays of light made Fen'Harel scowl at the offending window. 

"The sun rose little more than an hour ago," he said, then let out a yawn. "We do not need to do this so early in the morning."

"Nonsense," she said, leaping back onto the bed with a bounce, then crawling to the center to lay beside him. "I can sleep when I'm dead."

"You may find yourself in such a state soon if you do not permit me to rest a while longer."

"Fine," she said with a mischievous grin. "Snooze the whole day away if it pleases you. I'll just wander the temple unsupervised until you're better rested."

As she was about to vacate the bed once more, he pulled her back down beside him by her wrist, then sat up and leaned over her. "I would prefer that you did not."

Evelyn looked at the hand gripping her, then at his face. "Do you want me to stay here?" she asked with some alarm.

"How did you find this room?"

Evelyn looked confused. "You told me where it was."

"No," he said. "I made a point of not telling you, because I wished not to be disturbed."

"As you say," she said, as if humoring an imaginative child. Oddly enough, there was no hint of deception on her part; either she _believed_ that he told her, or she was an excellent liar. As far as he was concerned both possibilities were implausible.

"How did you enter this room?" he then asked.

"Carefully."

"Funny," he said. "How did you unlock the door?"

"Take me on my tour of the temple, and maybe I'll tell you," she replied, tapping the tip of his nose with her finger.

Fen'Harel sighed as he rubbed his eyes with one hand, then gave her a relaxed smile. "You win," he said, releasing her wrist.

With an excited squeal, she slid off the side of the bed. As he did the same sans squeal, she tilted her head sideways, and asked, "Do you have ten wives, or just five voluptuous ones?"

"You are inquiring about the size of the bed, I take it."

"Yes," she said, "and believe me, I know how much nobles love their excessive luxury. My father has a sword collection big enough to arm every peasant in the Free Marches in spite of barely knowing how to use one himself, but _this?_ How would you brag about owning Elvhenan's biggest bed in polite company?"

"The bed is not a status symbol; it was built to accommodate my larger form."

"You mean your giant _wolf_ form?" she asked with a giggle.

"Yes."

"So," she said with some hesitation, "you have _a_ wife with some unsettling... interests?"

Fen'Harel pinched the bridge of his nose, and squeezed his eyes shut. "I have no wife."

"A husband?"

"A _headache_ ," he said, giving her a weary glower. 

"Can I assume you have not yet eaten?" he then asked.

"I haven't," she replied, drifting towards the door. "I don't even know where your kitchens are."

"Can you cook?" he asked as he followed her out into the hallway.

Evelyn turned to face him. "Why would I know how to do that?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Ah, yes. Of course," he said, "I forgot that shemlen nobles don't believe in acquiring useful skills."

"That-" Evelyn raised a finger as if she were about to object, but then frowned and nodded. "No, that's fair."

"Return to your bedroom for now," he said. "I will retrieve you after I have gathered something for us to eat."

"You've not a single servant in the entire temple who can see to breakfast?" she asked, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

"No," said Fen'Harel, "not anymore."

* * *

It was not enthusiasm alone that had prompted Evelyn to wake early, and pester Fen'Harel, though that was part of it. More so, she hadn't slept well; not out of fear of where she stayed that night, but fear of where she'd stay the next night, and the night after that. Remaining in her bed, staring at the ceiling, fretting over everything that could go wrong became overwhelming, so she sought out something to distract herself with. After poking around the temple a bit, she sought _him_ out.

The dining room was clean, and that was the only nice thing she could have said about it if she were asked. All the magic at work within it made her skin feel as though it were stretched tight. The table was long enough to seat at least a dozen people, but there were only two chairs. Nearly every window had a pane of glass replaced with a mismatched one, and not a single piece of decor was present. It made her wonder who Fen'Harel last dined with.

Breakfast, if a civilized person could call it such, consisted of raw fruit and vegetables chucked into a couple of bowls with all the finesse of a drunken druffalo. He could condemn her lack of culinary talent all he wanted to, but it was obvious he possessed none of his own. She was a guest though, and an uninvited one depending on perspective, so she opted to make her displeasure known by clanking her silverware extra hard instead of outright voicing it. Much to her consternation, he didn't seem to notice.

Fen'harel let out a disinterested sigh. "The temple is far too large for you to see it all in one day. Is there a particular room you are most interested in?"

"I read in a book once that your temple has a prayer room with a talking statue," she said, grinning and rubbing her hands together. "May I see it?"

"You may," he replied. "Follow me."

Several corridors later, Fen'Harel and Evelyn stopped before a grand double-door between a pair of bronze urns that were almost as tall as her. Opening it required magic far more complicated than what was required by most doors in the temple, and it took him a bit longer to do so. Meanwhile she stood, patient, with hands clasped together.

"There we are," he said as the doors parted in silence, then gestured to the threshold. "Shall we?"

"Yes, please," she said, nodding.

Fen'Harel entered first, then stepped aside. Evelyn followed. There was not a single window inside. A massive brazier in each corner of the room provided light instead. The stone walls were undecorated. The ceiling was high, but unlike everywhere else in the temple she'd seen, here it was necessary. In the center of the room was a towering, six-eyed wolf statue with a foundation wide enough for several people to stand upon.

"Is it true then?" she asked with fervor. "Can it speak?"

"Perhaps you should pray to it and find out," he quipped.

Evelyn gave him a frigid glare. "I would never pray to you."

"I suppose your Maker would not approve, would he?" he asked, amused.

"I don't pray to him anymore either," she replied, then remembered something she'd been meaning to ask. "How did you know that I'm a virgin?"

"I've never referred to you as such."

"No, but you hinted at knowing last night when we were bathing."

"It was the spell I cast upon you when you were bound to my altar."

Evelyn hugged herself as she took a slight step back. "Magic can do that?"

"Magic can do many things," he replied.

She wondered what else he could use magic to reveal about her, then decided she'd rather not. A change of subject was in order. 

"I want to see something else now," she told him as she flitted out the door without bothering to see if he followed. When he caught up with her, she pointed at a door at the end of the hallway. "What's down there?"

"It used to be one of the servants' wings."

"May I see that next?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Some of the wings are inaccessible now, as is the library, but there should be enough places in the temple we can visit to sate your curiosity."

"Not that I particularly care about gazing upon a bunch of dusty old books, but why would any part of the temple be 'inaccessible' to you?"

"None are permanently so," he replied. "Magic preserves nearly every aspect of the temple. The spells used to make it so cannot be undone with the mere snap of my fingers; it would require time and effort I am unwilling to expend for a sightseer whose stay here will be brief."

"I understand," she said with a defeated nod. Now that he mentioned her impending departure, she was forced to think about it again. The best course of action, she decided, was to not address it.

"But you live here, don't you? Why would you want to cut yourself off from your own home?" she asked.

"I have not considered the temple interior my home in quite some time," he said. "The reasons for that are not something I care to discuss."

Evelyn let out a heavy sigh. "Very well. My feet are sore anyway," she said as she shuffled over to a wooden bench across the hall from the prayer room door.

"Given how much walking you did yesterday, I am hardly surprised," he said.

They sat side by side in silence until Fen'Harel chose to break it. "As I am sure you already know, you cannot live in Arlathan," he said. "I can send you anywhere you like. Do you have a place in mind?"

Evelyn stared at the floor and frowned. "I think Tevinter is my best choice. It would be better for me than the Circle of Magi, at any rate."

"Does Tevinter not force immigrants into indentured servitude?" 

"Yes, but it's only for ten years, and then I'd be a real Tevinter citizen," she said. "I suppose elves take for granted that they can be mages, and still be legitimate members of their society. I want that for myself, and there are no other means of pursuing it."

"Do you truly believe you could endure such an arrangement for a decade?"

"Better than I could endure being a slave to the Chantry for the rest of my life, I'm certain."

"Have you considered all that may happen to an indentured servant over the course of so many years?" he asked.

Evelyn sighed and rolled her eyes. "The same horrific things that would happen in the Circle; semi-regular beatings and the occasional rape," she said, "but not forever. If I at least had something to look forward to other than my own death, I think I could endure it."

"You say that with such nonchalance," he said, shaking his head. "Have you ever been raped?"

"Of course not," she replied, raising her chin. "You already know I'm a virgin."

"What I know is that you have never enjoyed sex with someone you care for; that is how the concept is defined by the elvhen, and that is what the spell was used to determine."

Evelyn's mouth hung open until she realized how ridiculous she must have looked. "I'm sorry. I already knew how different cultures throughout Elvhenan were; that they were different in _that_ way. I guess I didn't realize how much so until now," she said, eyes still downcast. "Your women are lucky."

"The noblewomen are, yes. The rest have their own torments to navigate," he said, then leaned back on the bench a little. "Back to the matter at hand though: do you not think yourself deserving of a better fate than the one you face as a 'servant' in Tevinter?"

"Of course I deserve better. Everyone deserves better," she replied. "It doesn't matter. Reality is what it is."

"Yes," he said, "but perhaps reality has options you are not aware of."

"Do you know of any?" she asked, covering her heart with a fist.

"Not yet," he said. "Those who still serve me can look into it though."

"You told me you didn't have servants anymore," she said.

"I have none who see to domestic tasks in the temple. I do have those who fulfill other purposes," he replied. "In the meantime, you may remain a guest in the temple. No harm will come to you here."

* * *

The following morning, Evelyn ate another bland breakfast with Fen'Harel in his creepy dining room. They had little to say to each other after the tour had ended, which gave her ample time to fret over her present circumstances. She didn't think it was in her best interest to voice her thoughts, but as their meal was coming to an end she was too distressed to keep them to herself.

"I do not wish to remain here longer than necessary," she said.

"Rest assured my servants will not drag their feet," he replied. "You seem troubled this morning. Is there a reason?" 

Evelyn frowned as she clasped and unclasped her hands beneath the table. "You said you would have killed me. I know you also said that I don't need to be afraid now, and I'm _not_ ," she said, "but you have a well-documented history of stabbing allies in the back. You and I aren't even friends! I don't trust you. I must seem like a terrible ingrate for saying so, but that's the truth."

"Putting your trust in me after the manner in which we met would be foolish," he said, "and I bear at least partial responsibility for your current predicament, so no, you are not an ingrate."

"How are you responsible for me being a mage?" she asked, cocking her head back.

"That is not the responsibility I refer to. I speak of the people who arranged for you to be delivered to me in exchange for my 'blessing'. You are here now because they knew I would reward them for it," he replied.

"I see," she said, but shook her head. "What I don't understand is how you possess such awareness of how wrong your actions are, then carry them out regardless. What purpose does it even serve for you to kill people?"

"The death of a person increases my power."

"How is that possible?"

"The altar makes it so," he replied. "There is a brief ritual involved. When a person- a _mage_ , dies upon it, my own magic becomes stronger."

"I- I understand," she said, glancing down at her empty bowl. Then she looked up at him again. "Is there no other way for you to become more powerful?"

"There are methods that can be used to extract a smaller degree of power from an offering."

"Then why not do that instead? Are those methods so much worse than murdering innocent people?"

"No," he said, "merely less productive, unless performed many times over."

"Is it an unpleasant thing?"

"That depends on the person being subjected to it."

"Would it be unpleasant for me?" she asked.

Fen'harel cocked his head back. "I beg your pardon."

"You want more power. I want a safe place to call home," she said with an exasperated groan. "It's not complicated, is it?"

He shook his head. "I understand the arrangement you are proposing, and I must decline. It is unnecessary," he said. "I will not send you anywhere that is less safe for you than the temple, unless you ask me to."

"What happens if you can't find such a place? What if such a place doesn't exist?"

"Then you may remain a guest indefinitely. I will demand nothing from you in return, least of all the services of a priestess." He snickered, shook his head again, then asked, "Did this entire exchange not begin with you expressing your desire to _leave_ the temple as soon as possible? What during the course of this conversation changed your mind?"

"It's practicality, I suppose. For me to remain here with nothing to offer while your servants search for a safe alternative to Tevinter, you could kill me on a whim if you like. I couldn't stop you, and there would be no consequences," she said, "but if I could be useful in some way, then it wouldn't be to your advantage to kill me; you would have a _reason_ not to. Do you see?"

"I do," he said, "and I will not exploit your fear in such a manner."

Evelyn folded her arms across her chest and scowled. "But you would kill someone who fails your trial," she said. "How is that better?"

There was a tense silence between them. "You make a compelling argument," he said at last.

"Of course I do," she said, grinning with pride.

"I will consider it," he said, "but then you must also consider precisely what it is that you are offering to undergo."

"Fair enough," she said. "Tell me what I must do."

"You can start by undressing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, everyone!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, this chapter is nsfw. ;)

Fen'Harel may have wanted Evelyn naked, but he couldn't have meant for her to undress right there in the dining room, could he? She peered at his face. The expectant look in his eyes made it obvious that was indeed what he wanted.

"Why-" She took a deep breath and shook her head. "Why do you need me to do that? I was already naked in front of you."

"Against your will, then out of necessity, yes. In those instances I saw you as I would most people," he replied. "I do not want to see you now; I want to look at you. Do you understand the difference?"

"You mean in a lascivious manner?" 

"If that is the word you prefer, yes."

Evelyn assumed he looked at her in that way when the opportunity first presented itself. It was beyond her control, and she had more important things to worry about at the time, so it hadn't bothered her. This was different though. If she consented to this, would he think less of her? She knew she shouldn't value his opinion, but she realized now that she did. There was no doubt he was evil; he admitted as much himself when he revealed what he did to "offerings" who failed his trial. Once hers was over however, he treated her better than any person ever did before. She liked him, and she wanted him to like her too.

"Why though?" she asked.

"The ritual requires a certain degree of intimacy. I would not need to penetrate you, but it may be more than you would feel comfortable with. Small steps are best. Revealing yourself to me now would be the first," he said. "Does that make sense to you?"

It was apparent to her by the way he studied her face that his boldness had purpose. He was gauging her reaction to see if there was any point in entertaining her idea. She wasn't sure how to respond.

"I- I don't know. I'm not changing my mind, it's just- I know a lot of the stuff about elves in our history books is made up for political reasons, but," she said, "there are a great many, uhm, graphic accounts of you doing those types of things with people, and they rarely survive. And there are a distinct lack of people in your temple. And this room has clearly fallen victim to something brutal!"

"How would you define ‘a great many'?" 

His expression was neutral, but something about it made her uneasy.

"I don't know how many exist, but I've read at least a dozen."

"Where did you happen upon such books?" he asked, though the question came out more like an accusation.

_Have I upset him?_

"They're in my family's library," she replied, wringing her hands.

"Who selects the books for your family's library?"

"My mother, usually."

Fen'Harel cleared his throat. "And what exactly was I doing in these ‘graphic accounts'?"

"I can't say those things out loud!"

"Why not?"

"Because they're _dirty_ ," she replied, lowering her voice with the subconscious fear that someone might overhear her.

He covered his mouth with one hand, closed his eyes, lowered his head, and made a sound she couldn't make out. She rose from her chair. 

"Are you crying?" she asked as she rushed to his side. "I'm so terribly sorry! Please forgive me."

When he lifted his head to look at her it was clear that he was not crying, but rather trying not to laugh. She put her hands on her hips and scowled. 

"I'm so glad you find my concerns amusing," she grumbled.

"I apologize," he said. "Rest assured, I have never hosted a fatal orgy in my dining room, or any other part of my temple."

Fen'Harel reached for her hand, and gave it a squeeze. The gesture was warm and pleasant, but it startled her. This was not the first time he held her hand. It seemed a thing he did when he was trying to comfort someone. It felt different now though. She couldn't put her finger on why. 

"Are you certain?" she asked.

"I am certain I would remember such an event, yes."

"You know what I mean!"

Fen'Harel nodded. "I do not deceive you in this. If you choose to take part in the ritual, you will be safe."

"Very well."

* * *

There was much Fen'Harel found unappealing about Evelyn. Her uncanny fixation on elvhen culture annoyed him, but it also reminded him of his own fixations throughout the past couple hundred years, which made him feel like a hypocrite for judging her. She disliked magic, though given what her own had cost her, that was at least forgivable. In spite of her love of history, she seemed averse to reading. Then again, he imagined growing up with a library full of erotic historical fiction handpicked by your mother would have that effect on anyone. 

What he couldn't look past was her penchant for making assumptions when she knew she lacked pertinent information. He realized that morning it was her assumptions about _him_ and his so-called betrayal that vexed him most. They shouldn't, he knew. Within the first hundred years of his defeat, he'd grown used to the people of Elvhenan doing the same, and she could never mean as much to him as they did. Somewhere inside himself though, he wanted her to ask for the truth. Her failure to do so disgusted him.

Still, she passed his trial. Even if he didn't like her much, he respected her. And now as she placed her clothing on the edge of the table he thought she was, at the very least, nice to look at. Her legs were long, and from there on up she was all soft curves. He would enjoy touching her, provided she didn't talk a lot while he was doing it.

Fen'Harel pulled his chair back, stood up, pushed his plate aside, then gestured to the empty place on the table. "Sit there," he told her.

* * *

Evelyn's eyes darted back and forth between Fen'Harel and the table. She did not sit upon it. His proposed scenario reminded her of what he said to her the day they met, about eating her. She assumed he meant the latter half of the threat in a dirty way, but what if he didn't? 

_Tell me what kind of person would sit in place of a meal at the behest of someone who wanted to make a meal out of them._

_A fool, obviously,_ she thought as she stared at the table in paralyzed silence. _Would he even have the decency to kill me first? Maybe that's why his dining room looks like this. Maybe his last victim was strong enough to fight back. Maybe that's how he got the scar._

"You have my word: I am not going to take a bite out of you," he said, as if reading her mind.

"What is your word worth?" she asked, making no effort to mask the disdain in her voice.

Fen'Harel cocked his head back. "Is that a rhetorical question, or do you truly wish to know?"

"I want you tell me. What is it worth?" she asked with a smirk. "What do you _think_ it's worth?"

Evelyn didn't expect him to respond well to that manner of question, but the uncanny way his expression softened, he looked almost relieved, joyous even. It made no sense to her.

"I will admit to being deceptive, even when giving my word," he said, "but I do not break it. Ask me if I will harm you. Ask me in all the ways you need to in order to feel safe, and I will oblige."

"No, I hate these ridiculous word games of yours," she said, finally plopping herself on the table in a huff. "Having my face chewed off would be preferable."

"I understand," he said, eyes downcast.

"I sincerely doubt that," she said, "but it's no matter. I don't wish to discuss it anymore."

"Very well," he said. "Would you like to put your robe back on?"

_Yes._

"Not yet."

Fen'Harel stepped toward her, and nudged her legs apart with his own. Curiosity replaced fear. She gripped the table.

He brought one arm around her, and placed the palm of his hand against the small of her back. It glided upward across her skin, stopping at the nape of her neck. A flutter in her belly replaced curiosity. She struggled not to make a sound.

"Now?" he asked.

"No," she replied with a small gulp. 

He kissed her cheek. A surge of warmth replaced the flutter. She kissed his mouth.

It was her first kiss. She always imagined it would be a repulsive thing she'd have to endure someday to appease whatever man her family wed her to. Kissing him was nice though; not the climactic sugary thing of storybook romances, but nice. That the reality of this milestone dissolved any pleasurable feelings that might have filled her up was as unfortunate as it was unavoidable, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Without warning, she pulled away from him with an abruptness that left them staring at each other wide-eyed.

* * *

"Is something wrong?" Fen'Harel asked.

Evelyn nodded, but said nothing.

"Talk to me," he said. "Tell me what is troubling you."

"I- I don't know the best way to say it."

"Then say it in the worst way." 

Evelyn looked at him aghast. "That- I _can't_."

"If we are to proceed with this, speaking honestly is more important than speaking eloquently," he said, tightening his arm around her waist and stroking her hair. "You look as though you are about to cry. Tell me why."

"I'm not going to cry!" she snapped at him. "It's just- I've lost everything. It was a _shitty_ everything, but it was mine and it was taken away."

"And what is it about what we are doing that brings those feelings forth?"

Fen'Harel was right, though he wished he wasn't. She lowered her head in a feeble attempt to hide the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"This isn't how it was suppose to be," she replied, her voice cracking. "Oh, it would have been terrible, of course, being forced to marry a man whose only interest in me was money or an elevation in status. Doing these things with him for the first time would have been so much worse, but- but I didn't _choose_ to come to Arlathan; I was discarded like trash, and this is where I landed. I don't wish it wasn't you kissing me here and now; I just wish it all happened differently. Do you understand?"

"Having everything important to you stolen, and finding yourself powerless to reclaim it? I understand better than you know," he said, "and I am sorry. You are in mourning, and though this was your idea, I should have known better. It was too soon to pursue it with you." 

Evelyn rolled her eyes, even as more tears fell from them. "You don't need to be so dramatic. It's not as if someone died."

"Hope died. I can think of no greater loss."


End file.
